


Hamartia

by singing_to_shipwreck (shocked_into_shame)



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, First Kiss, Hurt No Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/singing_to_shipwreck
Summary: The voices in his head have become deafeningly loud. The itching in his fingertips grows impossible to ignore. How can he be safe here when what he is is so diametrically opposed to what they are?There are whispers. Conspiratorial glances, hushed conversations when he enters a room.Something is coming.
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	Hamartia

**Author's Note:**

> mind the tags

He isn’t safe in this house. Maybe he was never safe within its walls, but now that reality scrapes at him at every moment. The voices in his head have become deafeningly loud. The itching in his fingertips grows impossible to ignore. How can he be safe here when what he is is so diametrically opposed to what they are? 

There are whispers. Conspiratorial glances, hushed conversations when he enters a room. 

Something is coming. 

Nandor is the last on his list. 

When he enters his crypt, it's clear he is blissfully unaware of what's happened above him, below him, of the blood that’s seeping into the floorboards, of the cold, looming silence in the hallway. The weight is heavy in Guillermo’s palm. Nandor grits his teeth at him. “Guillermo,” he says, and it sounds like the beginning of a scolding. Guillermo’s blood boils and he swallows down bitter, nasty words that threaten to tumble from his lips. 

Nandor takes a step closer to him, and his instinct cries out.  _ Now _ , it shouts.  _ Do it now. Now is your chance. _ He swallows that down. It might be a chance, sure. An opening. 

Nandor is dressed in only his shirt and trousers. His socked feet slide along his cold floor as he makes his way closer and closer. The other part of Guillermo - the part that has grown quieter and quieter with each passing day - begs him to stop.  _ Leave _ , it sobs, pleads, clawing at Guillermo’s insides.  _ Please don’t do this _ . 

But he has already started the process, and he can’t stop now. It’s become too much, the terror and the anger and the bloodlust that consumes him in this house, and now he’s finally begun to eradicate it. He's halfway there, and he can’t stop now. 

“Is something wrong?” Nandor asks, his words kind but his face curled up in disgust. 

He shakes his head, not trusting his voice. 

It’s now or never, he thinks, as he surveys Nandor’s face. With a deep breath, a breath of  _ resolve _ and intent, he reaches out and grabs for his collar, tugs Nandor down and interlocks their lips in a kiss. He will allow himself this, just once. Their movements are stilted and awkward. Nandor kisses back tentatively. The brush of his lips is dizzying, maddening. Nandor reaches up and tangles spindly fingers into his hair, his fingertips cool against Guillermo’s scalp. There’s strength there in his grasp. 

It’s a reminder.

The instinct recoils in horror. Something evil and ugly twists up in his belly and it’s so very easy, then, to let the wood slide into flesh. It’s always alarmingly easy, and this is no different, it seems. He stifles Nandor’s gasp with his lips. Like this, faces pressed close together, Guillermo can’t see the look of betrayal in his eyes. It’s simpler this way. He holds Nandor’s weight up until his arms shake with the effort, and only when it becomes unbearable does he pull away, allowing the body to slide to the floor. 

There’s something crinkled in the now limp, lifeless hand. Guillermo crouches down and peels it away, his face twisting as the putrid smell of rapidly decaying flesh pummels him. He can barely see, he realizes suddenly, his vision blurry. He wipes at his eyes furiously, clearing them. 

It’s a page from a book, the paper yellowed and curled at the sides. He blinks rapidly and the words come into focus.

_ On The Creation of a New Vampire _ is scrawled across the top. Each curve and each edge of the lettering throws its head back and laughs wildly in Guillermo’s face. 

The paper flurries down and lands where tree protrudes from mangled chest. 

Guillermo vomits. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry


End file.
